


powerful (with a little bit of tender)

by cordsycords



Category: L.A. By Night (Web Series)
Genre: Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Eva Deserves It, F/M, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Female Clothed Male, Or Writing any of my seven WIPs, PWP, Smut, because lesbireal here, i think i found my calling y'all, when you can write prosey softcore pron, why write things where Plot happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 07:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20756399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordsycords/pseuds/cordsycords
Summary: It's like I'm powerful with a little bit of tenderAn emotional, sexual benderMess me up, yeah, but no one does it betterThere's nothin' better





	powerful (with a little bit of tender)

**Author's Note:**

> i write porn when i have writer's block. i suffer so you can profit.
> 
> title & lyrics from make me feel by janelle monae

She strains against the bed, sheets and covers pushed askew, all but one pillow thrown to the floor, her hands struggling to find an anchoring place as she drifts into further euphoria, pushing air through her undead lungs as she fails to hold back a moan. Her legs twitch and lift on their own accord, heald down by someone much stronger than her, his fingers digging into the skin of her thighs atop his shoulders as he kneels on the floor before her, keeping her still enough for him to continue his ministrations. His tongue laves up and down her opening, and he leaves that to suck at her clit, the obscene sounds of it all echoing through her quiet haven, accompanied by her own exclamations. 

The tension rises within her, and her hand goes out, reaching for him, his head, his shoulder, anything, to anchor her to him. He reaches out too, his hand going out to take hers, clasping their fingers together as he continues, relentless against her. He knows the signs, has figured the exact way she likes to be touched, has probably mesmerized it like the perfectionist he is. She feels the vibrations of a low growl against her clit, and she falls over the precipice. He is there, smiling against her, pressing light kisses to her inner lips, the crease of her thigh, the top of her pubic bone, the knuckles of her hand grasped with his.

She shakes through it, her entire body seizing in pleasure as she screams a soundless shout to the ceiling. She cannot control how her legs kick at his back, how she twists against the mattress, black spots filling in at the edges of her vision, as she struggles to calm her beating heart, tears peaking through at the corners of her eyes. It takes another second for thought to come back to her mind so that she can focus on the weight of his head on her stomach, the feeling of his thumb rubbing across the tattoo on her abdomen. She reaches an uneasy hand out to touch his head, hearing him purr his contentness at the contact.

He moves to look at her, and once again she is the centre of his focus, albeit in an entirely different way than before, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she sighs, lips turning up at his sincerity. He is still kneeling on the floor, unlikely to move unless she asks him to, his tall body draped over her lower-half. His lips and chin glisten of her in the low light. He doesn’t make any move to wipe it off, “You?”

He flinches, surprised by the question, taking another moment to answer, “I am perfectly content to stay here all night.”

And he would, she is sure of that. There is no way for her to reciprocate his attention of her, though she understands that he gains some sort of pleasure doing this for her, if not the same kind of pleasure. That route is cut off to him, she is sure of it now, now that she understands the brevity of his sins. If he receives anything kneeling supplicant before her, then she is too forgiving to deny him.

As if to reinforce his point, his fingers, quick and tricky, go to trail against her entrance, light and teasing, though it feels more like electricity rolling against her skin, as sensitive as she is now. She gasps, pulls away from it, a shiver crawling down as her spine as the edge of pleasure and pain rolls through her. He removes her hands, his entire body away as she gets through the shock, but somehow the loss of him is even worse than the overstimulation. The whine barely escapes her lips before he is on her again, his hand reaching up towards her so he can pull her up, sitting at the edge of the bed, him kneeling on the ground below her. 

As naked as she is, bare compared to his completely clothed body despite the loss of his sweater, she nevertheless feels powerful, in complete control of the moment. She could direct him to do anything, and he would, no questions asked. And yet she holds back, and that is what makes her powerful, uninclined to pursue her darker desires against her very nature.

Unable to touch her lower half, he busies himself with pressing her lips to sweat-soaked skin, no doubt salty with effort. Fingers trail up and down her sides, around to her back, tracing the curve of her breast, just barely grazing the peak of her nipples. She sighs, leaning back on her hands, offering herself to as his face burrows into her neck, tongue licking at her clavicle, the sharp press of a canine at her inner throat followed by a low throaty chuckle.

She presses her hand against his shoulder and pushes him away, and then downwards.

He looks up at her amusement colouring his expression, “Again?”

“Yes,” she replies, watching as he trails down her stomach, eyes on her as he sucks a bruise inter her inner thigh before he puts his mouth on her and they grown in unison. She once again falls back onto the bed, lying back as he gives her his attention once more.

This’ll be her fourth orgasm, and perhaps a fifth after that, if he’s quick enough. She has this down to a science, after all, and they have so little time left.


End file.
